Pairs Well With Courage
by Selene Sokal
Summary: When Jaune's sister comes to visit, demanding that Jaune come back home to his responsibilities in the family vineyard, Pyrrha isn't going to let that pass without a fight. And yet, in a world of wine and family legacies, she comes to realize that maybe Jaune does have a calling outside Beacon. A cute Arkos three-parter for your Valentine's Day weekend.
1. Growing Strong

Weiss stormed across the campus in a _mood. _It was a childish behavior, immature for sure, and definitely beneath her character, but she had a damn good reason for being annoyed at everyone.

How the hell had _Yang_ gotten so good at chess?

She'd warned herself against overconfidence when Yang had seen her playing Blake and insisting that she got to play winner. And while Blake had been, as expected, an interesting opponent, she really wasn't in the same league as Weiss was. Weiss had been tutored in chess since childhood, an insistence of Father's, and, unlike many of his demands, chess was one she rather enjoyed taking to. It taxed her strategic and analytical mind to go head to head with a skilled opponent, and she relished the chance to play. And she was confident that Yang, loud, impatient, Yang, would be more of a polite contest she'd just have to push through and get back to her homework.

How wrong she had been.

She lost the first game, a surprise, possibly that overconfidence she'd warned herself about. But no, she could definitely tell that Yang wasn't playing at random. There were strategies at play, too many gambits that surely were deliberate. She was no amateur. A rematch was needed. And then, after that stinging defeat, another rematch. And then another.

Yang, arrogant, loud, obnoxious _Yang _had kicked her up and down the length of the board, making puns nonstop and calling the pieces by the wrong _goddamn names. _And the flirtation… shamelessly alternating between her and Blake, Yang dropped innuendo and implication with every piece she took off the board. It had shredded Weiss's pride and annihilated her patience, and that was why she was stomping across the campus, boiling in fury and- hold on a second.

It was Jaune. Not something Weiss would normally want to see when she was in a mood, but this was different. It was Jaune and a blonde woman who had far too much Arc about her to be anything other than his sister. That would have been intriguing enough, except for the much more interesting fact: they seemed to be arguing. Or, at least, _she _seemed to be arguing, speaking in rapid Old Valean, her voice forcefully authoritative and with a slightly rural accent that made it hard for Weiss's school-Valean to keep up, and Jaune... seemed to be failing to defend himself.

She stopped herself, thinking if she wanted, say, Nora to see her while she was getting reprimanded by Winter, but she realized, it was already far too late, that she and Jaune had made eye contact, and now his probably-sister had turned and made eye contact, too, and it was clear she was going to have to introduce herself. She waved, awkwardly, wishing she had a teleportation Semblance that could get her out of this surely awkward experience.

"Oh, um, hi Weiss," Jaune responded, likely also wishing for such a Semblance. "This is, um, my sister, Beryl," which confirmed Weiss's estimation, not that she needed it with how blonde and obviously related to Jaune the young lady was. Though, Weiss did have to admit, she lacked Jaune's essential awkward gangliness, and generally just seemed to be a well-put together, though rather provincial, young woman. Which meant that Jaune couldn't blame his Jaune-ish-ness on his genes. "Beryl, this is-"

But she wasn't waiting for Jaune to finish. She turned to Weiss in a forceful way and said, "Actually, you're perfect—you know my brother, so tell me: how is he doing as a Huntsman?"

Weiss froze. She heard Jaune lamely suggest that maybe she wasn't the best person to ask, and she had to agree. How was Jaune as a Huntsman? Wretched. Terrible. Worst in his year, by a long shot. And…

"Jaune continues to make considerable progress as a Huntsman-in-training. He's successfully led an attack against an elder Deathstalker and his largest confirmed Grimm kill was an… Ursa Major, I believe." Beryl's eyes went wide at that, darting incredulously to glance at her brother like she couldn't believe it was possible. Spending so much time in Beacon, surrounded by other aura users, Weiss had nearly forgotten that, for most people, taking down a Grimm larger than a Creep was an extraordinary feat, rather than homework. "His interpersonal combat record is… not great, but he's demonstrated a good tactical mind for leading Team JNPR in group matches."

The look Jaune gave her was a mix of gratitude and amazement. But she wasn't sure why she'd said it. It wasn't untrue, of course, but if she'd been asked to give her frank assessment of Jaune, well, it wouldn't be _nearly _so kind. But looking at his sister, she had an inkling why. There was something a little too much of her father in that woman, and the way she seemed set on undermining Jaune as a Huntsman.

"Well, be that as it may..." she seemed to be regaining from the surprise of Weiss's positive evaluation, "No matter what your friends might think, Jaune, you have a place you _belong. _At _home. _You're needed on the estate, and now that you've had your taste and seen what life is like out here, it's time to-"

"I'm sorry..." Weiss hadn't wanted to interrupt; she'd wanted to _get out of there_, but she had to ask, "'The estate?' Jaune, you've never mentioned your family had an _estate." _It was hard to process that Jaune Arc, goofy, doltish, hoodie-beclad Jaune Arc was from one of Vale's landed families. And, as the wheels in her mind turned, she was starting to piece together _which_ family it might be...

Jaune rubbed his neck. "I, um, well… It never seemed that important? When you're all so remarkable and-"

"Never seemed important?" his sister's scandalized voice rose into a fury, "You wear the family sigil! You're carrying the family sword! This land has been in our family for _generations, _Jaune, and you..."

"I- I'm sorry..." she felt light headed, "Your family estate, it wouldn't… it couldn't be..."

Jaune looked at her, red-faced, "It's not a big-"

"Château d'Arc," Beryl cut him off, "I take it you've heard of us?"

She slumped backwards, feeling the weight of the name come bearing down on her. "Jaune," she said in a haunted voice, "I didn't know you were one of _those_ Arcs!"

He threw up his hands. "What other Arcs are there! Why else do you think I've got the symbol of the Arceaux region on my family's heirloom shield!"

"My father drinks Château d'Arc!" she practically shrieked, "They served the '76 Arceaux at my going away dinner before I left for Beacon!"

But in response to that, both siblings awkwardly looked away. "What," she asked, "what does that mean?"

"Nothing!" Jaune was quick to respond. "It just..."

"Not a great vintage," Beryl supplied.

"The spring was just too cold, rains too uneven, and the grapes were too sweet," he shrugged, "Dad complained about it for most of our childhoods."

Beryl, in a gruff, deep voice, evidently imitating their father, added, "It's '76 all over again!" to her and Jaune's amusement.

But Weiss was fuming. They were the richest family on Remnant, and yet, of course, Father had cut corners at his own _daughter's _celebration. But that gave her more reason to glare at Jaune. "How do you, of all people, never once mention you're _literal _nobility from one of Vale's _oldest _families?"

"Um, technically, noble titles were abolished in my great-grandad's day, but-"

"JAUNE!" she shouted.

But Beryl was now the one cutting in, and seeming apologetic about it. "I'm… sorry, I didn't intend to cause anger here, but you can understand, right, what I'm asking of him? This is our family's _history; _it's something important."

Weiss, no stranger to issues of the family name, though certainly not expecting that she'd have that in common with _Jaune,_ of all people, was about to respond, but before she could speak, she was cut off by a familiar voice saying, "Jaune?"

Oh no. Weiss recognized that voice, and in the context of what they were discussing, she was likely the last person who should be hearing it.

It was Pyrrha, obviously out looking for her missing partner, and from the look of stunned awe on Beryl's face, she had definitely been recognized. Not surprising, honestly. Even though their friend group rarely noticed Pyrrha, whether because Weiss was, herself, a student with a rather extraordinary reputation, or from the way, after a few months, celebrity became normalcy, but Pyrrha was just... one of the group. Hard to be starstruck when you've heard her complain about her laundry woes, or you've tried to help her unstick a stuck drawer in her dorm. But for someone like Beryl, Pyrrha was _Pyrrha Nikos._ The Invincible Girl. The Goddess of Victory. A once-in-a-generation talent, with arguably the strongest pre-academy fighting record of _anyone_ since Ozpin was their age. There were furious online debates how she would match up against the late Hazel Rainart for Greatest of All Time. Her decision to go to Beacon had been international news… that her brother had somehow missed, but Weiss was getting the impression that some of Jaune's more… Jaune-ish tendencies weren't family traits. Or, at least, not shared with Beryl.

"I was just," Beryl swallowed, struggling to find words appropriate for meeting such a celebrity, "speaking with my _brother, _here, on returning to his responsibilities back home. I see he's had… quite an experience at Beacon, but he's not cut out for this life and he belongs on the family-"

"He will do _no such thing," _Pyrrha suddenly responded with a severity that nearly knocked the wind out of Weiss, and certainly sent Beryl's eyes wide. Seemed to surprise Pyrrha just as much as the rest with how suddenly she'd said it. "I- I mean, it would be his choice, of course, but… but Jaune has a place here! He has demonstrated his ability, and I can personally vouch that he rightfully belongs _here."_

Weiss could feel an almost electrical tension between the two, whatever starstruck daze was in Beryl's eyes cleared up real quick as she narrowed at Pyrrha's words. But whatever she was thinking, she opted not to act on it. "That… seems to be what I've been hearing," she ventured, diplomatically. She turned to Jaune, "I understand that you have friends here..." she glanced to Weiss and Pyrrha, "And I understand this is a… charged topic. But, please, Jaune… I'm your sister, _please_ think about what I've said." She looked to them both. "It was a pleasure meeting you. But I think it's time I took my leave. Jaune? Could you show me to the Bullhead dock?"

Jaune gave them both an apologetic look, promised he'd catch up with them, and turned to leave with his sister. But as soon as they were out of sight, Pyrrha whirled on Weiss. "_What have you done,"_ she hissed, no trace of the usually polite girl to be found in her fury, "I _know _you don't like Jaune, but you have _no _right to-"

"I didn't do anything!" she protested, "I told his sister h-he's improved as a Huntsman! And it's true, he has—I'm not trying to get him to leave!"

But Pyrrha, who normally would have apologized immediately for making an accusation, continued to look at her in a muted fury. And then… her face fell, and she couldn't stop wringing her hands, the usual Pyrrha coming back in. "Y-you heard what she had to say, right? Why she wanted Jaune to leave?"

"I- I don't know," she confessed, "When I came into the conversation, they didn't mention anything as to _why, _and I don't think Jaune would resist it if, I don't know, there was a death in the family? It just sounded like his sister wanted him back on the family vineyards and- well, has he ever talked about that with you?"

Pyrrha froze for a second, racking her brain, trying to think of what might be happening. "I- I don't know that much about Jaune's background," she confessed, "I mean, he talks about his family a lot, but never mentioned much about the family farm."

"The family _estate,_" Weiss corrected, to Pyrrha's confusion. "Your partner, it turns out, is from an old Valean family. One of the oldest—the Arceaux region is named because they used to _rule _it, before Vale was unified. The Arc family estate makes some of the best Arceaux wines in Sanus, and your partner's apparently been, well, part of that."

Pyrrha's jaw dropped. "He- he never mentioned that," she said quietly, nervously, as though she was realizing how much about her partner she didn't know. "Do you think it's something, I mean-" then she cast her eyes downward, and Weiss realized she'd never seen Pyrra—strong, invincible Pyrrha—ever seem so small in front of her. "Do you think he'll leave?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"I… don't know," Weiss admitted. "I really don't know anything, but..." she knew she had to marshal her words carefully—she'd already seen Pyrrha's anger roused once tonight and had no interest in seeing another, "Jaune's from a really prestigious winery, and maybe there's an opportunity there he can't pass up? And, you know, maybe… maybe his sister does know him better than we do?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment, the air suddenly feeling quite a bit colder than she was used to in Vale. Quite a bit more like it was in Atlas. "I… thank you, Weiss, but I'm going to wait for my partner to return. I… would like to be alone right now, if you don't mind."

Leaving Pyrrha alone didn't sound like a good idea, not from the way her voice seemed to waver as she said it, but Weiss didn't know what she could say. She just nodded and stepped back, watching as Pyrrha looked to the Bullhead docks, her body language saying everything she couldn't say out loud. Paralyzed by indecision, whether to stay or go or say something or whether she should text Nora or her own team about what she'd heard, or if she should wait for Jaune to tell everyone about this himself, Weiss could only carry out what Pyrrha had requested of her. And so, she left.

* * *

She had expected that Jaune would be quick to return. That he'd walk his "sister" to the Bullhead docks, say his goodbyes for the night, and come back. So Pyrrha had stood where she was, feeling time creep both impossibly slow and lightning fast in alternating moments. Checking her scroll for the time, putting in back in her pocket, then immediately retrieving it to check the time again. Feeling impatient, she resolved to go after them, figuring anything was better than just standing around and waiting.

Her mood bounced between blazing fury and trembling anxiety. At one moment, she was the Goddess of Victory, surely cutting a figure of some awe as she told herself she would not _permit_ anyone to disrupt Team JNPR, and that she would protect her partner from family members who sought to use him for their own benefit, without a thought for _his _happiness. She had _experience_ in dealing with that, after all. But then… she would suddenly get a thought that undermined all that confidence, sending her tumbling into self doubt. Jaune loved his family. He _obviously _loved his family from the way he talked about them. And maybe they just knew better than she did what was best for Jaune.

But that only reminded her that she'd _heard _Jaune tell her, firsthand, how badly he wanted to be a Huntsman. How much he wanted to live up to his family's reputation, using his grandfather's sword! The idea that all his dreams, and all the work he'd put into achieving them should be cast aside so he could pick grapes and make wine—wines that would be drunk by people like Weiss, wealthy, entitled sorts who had no _appreciation_ for Jaune… she wouldn't stand for it.

And that was the mood she was in when she heard, "Oh, hey, Pyr!" from a bench she was just about to pass.

She turned, startled, so caught up in her own world that she almost hadn't noticed that she was walking right past the subject of her thoughts… with his sister.

Beryl gave her a wave. "Jaune and I were just talking about how the Malbecs were coming in and must have lost track of time. I hope you weren't waiting on my brother long," no explanation for why she _wasn't _gone, and Pyrrha rather didn't like the way she was saying her apology.

Jaune seemed almost embarrassed to talk about it. "It's… it's a kind of grape that's sometimes used in Arceaux reds. Beryl's teasing me because I thought they'd grow well in some newly-drained land my family was cultivating, because it'd get the sun more and..." he realized he'd started rambling. Pyrrha _loved_ to hear Jaune ramble, to see him get passionate, but on this topic, and the way his sister seemed to watch him talk, made her feel… it was hard to place. "I just… they just need some more time."

Beryl nodded at that, undeniably taking it as a point in her favor. Pyrrha had decided she did not like Jaune's sister—hopefully the other six weren't like this. It wasn't what she said or did so much as how she seemed to _do_ it. She had a smug mien to her that made it feel like everything she did, even watching her brother speak, was all in service to some inscrutable goal.

Well, one on one combat was where Pyrrha excelled, so might as well bring her strengths to bear.

"Jaune?" she asked, sweetly, "I'm glad I caught you both; I was actually hoping for a chance to talk to your sister, one on one, if you don't mind." She gave them a polite smile so dishonest that her media trainer would have wept to see it, "You know how much I want to learn about my partner's past. I really do," she looked to Beryl, "find your family quite _fascinating, _especially with the things Jaune hasn't told me yet."

Jaune blushed, furiously, muttering, "She knows about the dress. And the pigtails." Beryl suppressed a snicker, clasping a hand to her mouth as her brother got up. He turned to Pyrrha before he left. "Listen: you respecting me... it was good while it lasted." Pyrrha couldn't help but smile, a real, honest smile, when he said that.

But then he left, and Pyrrha took his spot on the bench. "Alright," now was no time for beating around the bush: she could see in Beryl's eyes that the feeling between the two was mutual. "What's your game here?"

"_My_ game?" she asked, incredulously, "_I _should be asking you what you're playing at here with _my brother. _You do know—and I _don't want_ to be the one telling you this—that he has _no_ combat training, right? No academy background, no personal training—dad didn't unlock _any _of our auras specifically because he didn't think any of us _should _become Huntsmen."

Pyrrha looked at her cooly. "I know about Jaune's background. He trusted me enough to tell me not long after we first met. I've been _personally _training him, and I'd rather not see my effort go to waste."

Beryl blinked at that, taken a little off step. "_You're_ training him? _You?_"

She smiled, a dominant, champion's smile. There was a reason she didn't lose fights, and confidence had a role in that. Defeat the enemy in their own mind first, and the battle becomes much easier. "We have a similar style, though mine favors mobility and his favors defense. And believe me: Jaune's a quick study. He takes to the style like a natural, and he's an exceptional team leader. We're favored to win the Vytal Tournament for a reason."

"No, _you're_ favored to win the Vytal," Beryl corrected. Inwardly, Pyrrha cursed herself for overplaying her hand. Beryl might be underestimating her brother's ability, but she was still his sister, and could likely tell what was implausible to expect. "Jaune's not helping you there. You've trained all your life for combat, Jaune's just got grandad's sword and too many comic books." She tensed at that, but before she could reply, Beryl cut her off, "_Here, _he's only got a sword and a dream. But you don't know what he has back home."

"Jaune's told me _quite _a bit about his family," she replied, testily.

"But none of you knew about the family name," Beryl shot back, "Or the estate, or any of the responsibilities he has back there. And you _certainly _don't know about how much Jaune's _personally _invested into this."

Pyrrha didn't like what Beryl was building to, here. But she was right, and Pyrrha was growing frustrated with how little she actually knew. And that told her, the longer she evaded, the better Beryl's hand would be. She had to keep to the point. "What do you want?" she asked, teeth slightly gritted for emphasis.

Beryl eyed her warily, but acceded to her request. "I think Jaune is a young man who saw childhood ending and got uncertain about his future," Pyrrha could practically feel the electricity crackling between their gazes, tingling her polarity sense, "He's attracted by the glamor and heroism and, yes, the chance to _do good… _but he'll be much happier, much better off, and yeah, able to do _a lot more good_ in viticulture than he could do with a sword. You have no idea what the estate means to the family, to the _community."_

She didn't, but she wasn't going to yield the point."You have no idea what Jaune's achieved here already."

But she only nodded, gravely, to her point. "Tell you what: I'm visiting some locations here in the city as a representative of the family. I could easily put together a wine tasting for you and your friends, and have Jaune run it. Let you see for yourself where my brother's talents and passions _really _lie." Then the unexpected happened: her features softened, looking less like Pyrrha's opponent and more the sister of someone she deeply cared about. "I want you to know… I'm not doing this to control him. I really do think this is what's best for Jaune, and I _really _do care for my brother..." but then the spark came back into her eye, "Just because we're not world-famous monster fighters, there are _other ways_ to protect our communities. Might not be glamorous or get us sponsorship deals, but our work is important, too."

Pyrrha knew that diplomacy would serve her best here, but she didn't feel inclined to give her anything more than a cool nod of her head. "Alright. We'll got to a wine tasting. I'll see what you're talking about. But I'm telling you: Jaune has a place here. He _belongs _here. And if he doesn't want to leave, I'm not going to sit idly by and just watch."

Beryl nodded as well. "I don't think I could expect anything less from the Goddess of Victory," and Pyrrha cringed to hear that name. "But if you see what I've known all my life… I want you to back off. We both want what's best for him, and," and then she gave Pyrrha a teasing smirk, "we both know that he doesn't always realize a good thing when he has it."

Well.

_That_ certainly threw her!

But Pyrrha was quick to regain her balance. She looked to Beryl, eye to eye, and nodded. This was a painful circumstance, realizing that there was so much of her partner that she didn't know, and how easily she could lose him. But now she had an opponent, and an opponent meant she had somewhere to direct herself. She was no longer lost in a panic of uncertainties—she would not lose here, and she knew that for a fact.


	2. The Tasting

True to her word, Beryl had organized a wine tasting for the teams, and, after receiving an "appreciation gift" of a bottle of good claret, Port had been more than happy to write them a pass for an evening in Vale. They loaded up into the Bullheads, Pyrrha giving Jaune a sympathetic pat on the back as he gripped the seat and braced his stomach for the flight into town.

But with that minor unhappiness out of the way, spirits were high once they touched down. From Weiss and Blake trying to outdo the other in sophistication, to Yang and Nora arguing who could out-drink the other (a very wary Ren desperately looking to Pyrrha for help, but she had other things on her mind), to Ruby's very clear nervousness with "never having drank before." Fortunately, Vale had no minimum drinking age (which seemed so strange to her, compared to Mistral's minimum age of 21), and, as a private party, there would be no issue with her joining the group.

But while the mood around her was merry, Pyrrha's spirits remained low. She didn't like this whole situation, that Beryl seemed so confident that Pyrrha just had to _see_ that Jaune was more in his element here, and that still had her rattled. If it was just his family's doubts about his ability, well, Pyrrha had spent a lot of time coaching Jaune through his own self doubts, she could certainly handle an unsupportive family. But this was different: Beryl seemed supremely confident that Pyrrha would be _convinced_ that Jaune wasn't just better suited for farm work, but that it was his calling.

But to Jaune, she kept up a front of cheerfulness. It was what she was most practiced at, after all, even moreso than her fighting skills. He seemed a little nervous, in spite of his smiles, and she knew he needed reassurance and support right.

"Have you led a tasting before?" she asked.

"Not really, actually," he admitted, "I left home at 17 and all, so I really only have the barest experience on the business side of things."

"The business side of things?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," he smiled, "I've been on the working side since I was a little kid, really. _Everybody _had something to do in the process, and some of my oldest memories were having to pick grapes or other stuff along the trellises and bushes. But selling and producing wine… I've only been doing that for a few seasons."

Leaving off that "a few seasons" means he might have been doing this work for as long as he'd been a teenager, but it was something curious to Pyrrha exactly why Jaune was so essential to the family business. He had seven sisters, and any one of them, like, perhaps, Beryl, could easily take over the family business if it had to stay in the Arc name.

She would have asked, but they'd already reached their destination. A swanky looking wine bar where Jaune led them to an upstairs room that had been reserved for them. A room where her current opponent was now standing before her.

As Beryl gave her brother a hug and introduced herself to those she hadn't met yet (and Nora asked if Jaune really had seven sisters, and then asked what was up with their parents having eight kids before Ren could stop her), Pyrrha gawked. It was certainly a nice place, looking rather elegant and well decorated. And Beryl apparently hadn't skimped on the cost, with two tables laden with cheese boards, breads, and fresh fruit. As well as many, many bottles of wine, all bearing a familiar double-crescent.

"Damn, Jaune," Yang marveled, "hell of a setup you've got for us. When did you get so classy all of a sudden?"

Beryl smirked, "Jaune's the latest, or at least, he was the latest, in a long line of Arcs to run the family winery. It's kind of in our blood; we've been drinking and pairing wines for generations."

"Hold on," Nora interrupted, "if you've got some super fancy job at home, what are you doing here?"

Ah, leave it to Nora to ask the million lien question Pyrrha was too afraid to. Jaune blushed. "Well, it started when our older sister Saphron went off to Mistral-"

"For which mom has not forgiven her," Beryl interrupted.

"Really?" Jaune seemed surprised to hear that, "I... thought everything was patched over now that mom has grandbabies?"

But Beryl waved him off. "Pfft, I was just joking. Saphron could have burned half the trellises and she would have been forgiven if she had a new picture of Adrian to show."

"Well, anyway," he continued, a little miffed at the joke, "She was the oldest of us, and when she left, I started thinking, you know, maybe there's a bigger future for me, out there somewhere. And, yeah, our family's always been in the wine business, but the men in our family have been Huntsmen for just as long."

That last line felt a little pointed, and aimed at Beryl, which Pyrrha took some inappropriate satisfaction in. But it seemed that the rest of their group was largely unaware of the context of their circumstances, far more interested in the fact that Jaune was, apparently, fancy.

"Yo, Jaune," Yang asked, "I think the bigger question is: this whole time, you could have been hooking us up with fancy champagne for," she thrust out her chest suggestively, "_celebrations?_"

"No?" he asked, quizzically. Jaune's density was, for once, working in Pyrrha's favor. "We're an Arceaux classification? It can only be called Champagne if it's from the Champagne region of Vale."

"Which iiiiiis…. where?"

Weiss looked at her incredulously. "Yang, you should know this! I know this, and I'm from Atlas! _You're _Valean!"

"Yeah," she shot back, "_Patch_ Valean. Which means I stand for Patch Independence!"

"Live free or die!" Ruby cheered, "Don't mess with Patch! Remember the battle of Signal!"

Beryl rolled her eyes. "At least you're not shooting your guns while saying that." Ruby stuck her tongue out.

"I don't get it," Nora chimed in, "what's the deal with Patch?"

Blake, fortunately, cut in before Yang could answer with more nonsense. "Patch was an independent country before it confederated with the Kingdom of Vale, and some people-"

"Know that our constitution says we can still secede!" Yang boasted. "We fly our flag equal with the Valean!"

Nora seemed delighted by that answer. "You should _so_ do that! Hey! Jaune-Jaune, can we be revolutionaries? It'll be _awesome!_"

"I..." Jaune struggled to find a rebuttal before turning to Ren, "Come on, man, you're supposed to field these."

But Ren just smirked. "I don't know, maybe I'm considering supporting Patch Independence… Perhaps there's something in my Mistralian blood that calls me to support the inevitable fragmentation of your country."

Jaune rolled his eyes, and Pyrrha had to giggle. Valeans had a tendency to think the whole world was against them, which, from their history, might not have been an irrational worldview, but the belligerent, aggrieved Valean was a stock character for a reason.

"So you're Mistralians, huh?" Beryl asked, then turned to Weiss, "And you're Atlesian, I know. A rather international group here: any Vacuans in your teams?" The table shook their heads _no, _to which Beryl laughed. "Good. We can talk secession or the old Valean rivalries, but I can't talk wine with a Vacuan without it leading to a fight!"

Ruby raised her hand, but her partner whispered to her, "Competing wine regions, there's an old rivalry there," to which Ruby _Ohhhhed _in understanding.

"To get us back on topic," Jaune had uncorked a bottle, in one impressively fluid motion, "we're starting with an Arceaux Blanc, '97 vintage and using Sauvignon Blanc grapes. Appreciate the straw color, and the little glints of green you might catch in the light..." he began rattling off as he poured glasses for all of them present.

Pyrrha had never been to a wine tasting before. She'd barely even _had _alcohol at all, much less wine, what with being underage in Mistral. Though she'd certainly snuck some alcohol before, and even gotten drunk when she was feeling rebellious, and, moreso, when she was trying to make friends back at Sanctum. As she swirled the wine alongside her friends, she wondered as to what she was _supposed _to do: she understood the basics, but it was something she was unfamiliar with.

An odd experience, that Jaune knew what he was doing and she was completely clueless. She took in the scent of the wine in her glass, still in that awkward space of being unsure what she was supposed to appreciate. How even more rare it was, when she didn't have clear instructions on what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to be.

She was interrupted by Yang's grousing. "Can we finally just _drink_ the wine?" she asked.

"Actually, uh, yeah, you can," Jaune said, "However, when tasting- and you've already downed it."

"Hints of grapes," Yang said with a snicker. "Hope I'm not offending your family if I'm really just here to get messed up."

It was, to Pyrrha's surprise, Beryl who cut in. "Not at all. With the finer wines, you don't spend 1,500 lien a bottle just to get hammered-"

_"Most_ of us wouldn't," Blake interrupted, looking right at Weiss, who merely rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend.

"-but we're a rural Valean family, and we know that wine's about having a good time as much as it might be about subtle flavors and all that pretentiousness. Big city types might use the spittoon to not let the alcohol cloud their judgment, but drinking wine without feeling the kick? It's like taking a knight's sword away," she _tsked_ at the insult.

"We could actually split the group," Jaune suggested, "I'll lead one tasting for people who want to learn more about wine, and Beryl can hang with everyone who wants to get soused."

"Hell _yeah, _Vomit Boy!" Yang cheered. And then she noticed Beryl's confusion. "Oh, yeah, your brother's nickname, he got it from-"

"Let me guess," she cut Yang off, "his motion sickness?"

"Got it in one."

Jaune grumbled a little at that, "Alright, for the _rest _of us who aren't so interested in making fun of me," and he ignored how everyone pounced on their opportunity there, "how about you take a sip, and don't be afraid to take a generous one, letting it sit in your mouth, covering your whole-"

"AHHHHHH," Ruby choked, "is this _poisoned?" _she gasped, spitting her mouthful of wine into the spittoon.

"Oh," Jaune paused for a moment, "It's a little dry, but, um, I didn't want to start off with anything that heavy, so, um, I guess wine's really just an acquired taste?"

_"Why would you drink this?" _Ruby wailed, to the general merriment of the table.

Jaune looked a little embarrassed to not have anticipated this, and, in retrospect, they all really should have. "I can get you a soda," Weiss gently suggested, "and you'll still be able to have fun with us."

And though the wine had a crisp, fruity attack that Pyrrha was rather enjoying tasting, her attention was drawn towards Ruby and Weiss. They were good partners to each other, in a way she wouldn't have guessed when she first met the two. Back then, Ruby had seemed far too childish to really take seriously—something she'd been very much proven wrong about—and Weiss had seemed too stuck up and impatient for Pyrrha to want to know better. But moments like this reminded her that her assessments had been wrong. Weiss really cared for Ruby, she cared for her whole team, in a way that reminded Pyrrha of how much she had gained in finding Ren and Nora and… Jaune.

As the groups split up, Pyrrha's attention switched back to Jaune. She'd been told that she'd see something here, something that would convince her that she was in the wrong, that she had to let go of her closest friend. The wine she was tasting was good, she had to admit, strong and complex in its flavors, but, at the end of the day, it was just wine. There was nothing yet that even came close to what Jaune had here.

* * *

Pyrrha was feeling a pleasant buzz that was, admittedly, more than a buzz at this point.

The tasting had now split into the two groups, though she wasn't sure either was drinking less than the other. The first was Weiss, Ren, Blake, and herself, led by Jaune. They were still doing a "tasting," but Jaune had been quite insistent that the wine keep flowing, tried with all the different cheeses and fruits that seemed to appear in front of them. The spittoon seemed to get less use than it ought to, as the table took up an attitude of general merriment. The other group, led by Beryl, had abandoned even the pretenses of a tasting: Yang and Nora were arm-wrestling, to Beryl's great approval ("It's not drinking until someone fights!" was her exact words) while Ruby, too distrustful of wine to try another sip, gorged herself on different cheese and charcuterie boards.

But even with all the excitement around her, Pyrrha found her attention fixed on Jaune. She was entranced; hanging off his every word—and not just because of her crush. He… for the first time since she'd met him, Jaune was actually in his element. And Pyrrha had to admit: he was really passionate about wine. Every bottle came with not just his almost-encyclopedic knowledge of his family's estate, the grapes grown there, and the production of wines, but with a _story. _He talked about his family, his home, the season it was picked in, his childhood on the riverbanks, every bottle had something to talk about.

Right now, they were sampling an Arceaux Rouge, and Pyrrha was finding herself falling in love with the way he said the names of the wines. His Valean accent came out, and Pyrrha had to admit that it was… well, it was _sexy. _She idly wondered about the name he'd come up with for their team-up attack. Arkos and Arceaux. They were pronounced differently, but if she gave the "c" a hard "k" pronunciation, as a Mistralian like her probably would have… it was a funny thing, "Arkos." Ruby had absolutely no patience for it, arguing that the name of the team-up attack was of utmost priority and he'd just mashed their names together, from Arc-Nikos, to-

Arc-Nikos.

She could be Pyrrha Arc-Nikos, couldn't she?

She sipped the wine along with her friends, but the last thing on her mind was tannins.

"Has a strong, fruity taste," Weiss ventured, holding the taste on her tongue, "aftertaste of, hmm, raspberries, yeah."

Ren nodded his agreement. "That smell of raspberries was the first thing I noticed in the aroma, almost overpowering."

"Are you guys actually tasting these things," Blake asked, crossly, "or are you just saying whatever and agreeing with each other so you don't seem stupid?"

It was a rude question, and Pyrrha felt herself growing cross with Blake for asking it, but Jaune took it well. "Ha, there's always some herding going on, but I like that about wine—it's always a little subjective, a little personal, and it's better to do things in a group to try and puzzle things out together. I've always felt that the challenge is to find a way to put what our senses tell us into words, so we can better understand what we'd just experienced."

The funny thing was, Jaune had no idea how well tailored that answer was for Blake. Of all their friends, she was the most receptive for the idea of socially-constructing meaning from sense experiences, rather than pursuing objective, scientific description. But, like all things Jaune, it was completely accidental—he wasn't attempting anything other than complete sincerity.

He gestured back to Blake's glass. "Try it again, and just… describe things. What does it remind you of, where does your mind go to when you taste it?"

Hesitantly, she took another sip of the dark crimson wine. "It's a little, um, I think- Is, um, I know 'smoky' is a wine word," Jaune nodded for her to keep going, "and so there's a bit of that smoke taste in there? Like… like the bonfires back home, we'd make these big fires for celebrations, and I remember how the smoke used to sting my eyes and I could _taste_ it for like, the whole next day afterwards, but I had to get close to the fire to prove that I wasn't..." she trailed off, blushing for having revealed a piece of her closely-guarded past.

Though Jaune only nodded in response. "Yeah, smoky is definitely a wine term, and I agree with your take. It comes from the oak barrels we age them in, actually, and some vintages are _powerfully _oaky. Those bottles are more of an acquired taste, but my dad swears by it."

"What do you taste in it?" Weiss asked, a hint of honest curiosity in her voice.

Jaune just smiled. "I mean, you might make fun of me for it, but… it tastes like home."

"Total cop out," Blake griped.

But Jaune just played it off with a laugh. "Every glass of wine has the terroir of the Arceaux countryside in it. Watered by the river I grew up next to, every grape picked by someone in our community, someone who's eaten at our table, every cask prepared by my family and aged in our cellars… a good Arceaux tastes like home," and he said it, his voice practically _aching_ with sincerity, "All places are good, but..." and he blushed a little, "but home is best."

"A TOAST!"

Pyrrha almost fell out of her chair in surprise. She whirled around, something she shouldn't have done nearly as quickly as she did, to see Beryl standing, her glass held high. "Friends, I was struck by something my dear brother just said. Whether you're from Vale or Mistral or Atlas, or Patch," she added with a smile to Ruby, "from all across Remnant and now here in Vale, a toast to our homelands, to our homes far off—but never forgotten."

Everyone raised a glass, even Pyrrha. She couldn't have gotten far enough away from Argus, from her old life, when she left, but looking around, seeing the way her friends got misty-eyed from the remembrance, it seemed that they all had fond memories playing in their minds.

And Jaune was no less one of them.

There's no place like home. And Jaune's home… wasn't here. Wasn't with her. He had somewhere else to be, where he belonged. Where he'd be happy and fulfilled.

Her heart sank. This… was his calling, wasn't it? The way his eyes sparkled when he talked excitedly about the harvest, about the whole community coming together, or how he'd just walked them patiently through the art of wine tasting. Beryl was… she was right. She glanced to her partner, but it was painful to think of him in those terms. So she downed her glass, and poured herself another one.

She was the Invincible Girl, a master of so many forms of combat, so much media training, and so many virtues to aid her as a Huntress. But in all that, she had never learned how to lose.

* * *

There was something amusing in helping all of his _very _intoxicated friends back to the dorms. Jaune had grown up with wine at every meal since he was a child, and he had long since learned how to hold his liquor. But loading them up in the Bullhead where, for once, he wasn't the _only _one feeling queasy as it took to the sky? Well, he took some satisfaction from that.

Surprisingly, Yang, Nora, and Ruby were the ones handling it best. His group was almost completely out, with Ren nearly falling asleep on Nora's shoulder. Ruby, fortunately, had snapped a quick photo of the scene, which he was sure to request for his scroll later. Blake and Weiss were also pleasantly sleepy, while Pyrrha…

"Mmmm, _Jaaaaaaune,_" she said, running her fingers up his arm, "when did you get so _stroooooong~_"

He brushed a stray hair from her face, and the girl nearly swooned into his arms. It was rare to see this side of Pyrrha, the sweet, fun loving girl who liked teasing him. Liked teasing him a _lot_, considering the way she was nearly feeling him up as they walked back to the dorms, which was really starting to put Jaune in a state of mind he really shouldn't be entertaining.

But it wasn't long before they got back to the dorms. Helping Pyrrha stumble up the steps, keeping Nora from acting on her "Great Idea" to go fight Cardin, and, of all people, stopping Ren from wandering off because he saw a cat; it was all a lot more work than Jaune might have expected from his teammates, and yet, he couldn't help but feel a deep affection for all of them. And as Pyrrha leaned on him heavily as he opened the door, he realized, that there was-

"Jaune, a moment?"

He turned to Beryl, standing in the hallway. She'd come along to help him guide his friends on the flight back—a critical help, especially considering that, wholly sober, Ruby was far too jittery from all the soda she drank to be of much help.

But he felt Pyrrha's hand on his arm, and he turned back to her. "Jaune..." she squeezed her eyes shut tight, then whispered, "Just… don't. _Please._"

Something about the way she said it made Jaune want to pull her into a tight hug, to tell her everything would be alright, that she had nothing to fear. But… she was drunk, and Jaune… shouldn't risk liberties. Even something as small as this wasn't worth jeopardizing what they had. "It'll be fine," he reassured her, "I'll just talk to her real quick, then I'll be back," and then he passed her on to Nora and went back into the hall.

He looked to Beryl warily. She was always the cautious one in the family, the one who calculated all the odds before doing anything. Where Jaune was the romantic or Saphron the adventurous, she was the business-minded one, who tallied her ledgers and never acted before thinking. And Jaune knew very well not to underestimate her, especially after a night of drinking—wine just seemed to sharpen her incisiveness.

And yet, her expression was just his sister's honest, sweet smile. "You really do love them, don't you?"

That… wasn't what he was expecting. But, he sighed, it was true. "Honestly… they feel like family, you know? N-not that you're not, or being replaced or anything!" he quickly corrected, "But… "

"I know what you mean," she said. "You're a lot better at making friends than any of us expected, honestly."

"It's like Mom always said," he shrugged, though a little miffed at the lack of faith, "a stranger's just a-"

"Friend you haven't met. Yes, she's my mother too, Jaune. But… you're doing well here. I really thought I'd be pulling you out of the fire, but Yang and Ruby and Nora certainly thought very highly of you."

As much as he appreciated hearing that his friends believed in him, Jaune tensed at that. Beryl didn't sound like she was conceding. "Alright, Beryl," he started, guard up. _Just like Pyrrha taught you, _he thought. "There's something you expected from tonight, so you might as well just let me know."

She nodded, respectfully, almost appreciating his forthrightness. "Fair enough. I wanted to remind you that this isn't just a family obligation, Jaune. Wine's in your blood—it's something important to you, something you _care _about, and even more so, Arceaux is your _home, _Jaune. And from what I saw tonight, you can't hide from me how dearly you love it."

He gave her an equal nod, readying his counter. "Yeah, that's true," and he meant it. He knew the reason he'd kept mum about this part of his past, this crucial part of his self, from Pyrrha and the rest was because he knew it would inspire that deep sense of longing he was now feeling. "But there's more on the line than just me, Beryl. If I'm a Huntsman… I can help people in a way I couldn't in a winery. It's a dangerous world, and we need everyone we can who can fight out there!"

"Yes, as a Huntsman, you would protect the community, I don't contest that." Something about her words reminded Jaune of his father, and the haunted way he spoke of his Huntsman days. "But what is a community without its traditions? We're the center of our community—the chateau keeps people employed, our wine is where our region looks to for its pride, its identity, and it gives our people a sense of their _history._ We're an institution, Jaune: we belong to the people of Arceaux. Our family has been integral to creating what we fight for, what the people of Arceaux draw their strength from, and that is as much a way to protect our community as fighting monsters with a sword! Jaune, Dad taught you-"

"Dad taught all of us!" he shot back, not liking another reminder of his father.

But Beryl was expecting it. "And you took to it better than anyone in the family." And Jaune, never good at taking compliments in general, much less about the family business, could only blush. "You've got a real knack for viticulture, for winemaking, for managing the estate—there's a _reason_ dad was giving you responsibilities like you got when you were 14! I _never_ was put in charge of anything until I was 18, but you've really got a talent, Jaune."

He seethed. "And I'm sure the fact that if I take it over, you can pursue your _own_ dreams isn't a factor in this?"

"You think I _don't _want to inherit our family's incredibly successful winery?" she looked at him dismissively, "I'm doing this because you're my _brother, _Jaune, because I think you're making a mistake you'll regret for the rest of your life. Because I think what's best for our _family _is for the best Arc to take up the reigns once mom and dad retire. And believe me: your friends noticed that wine is your passion."

He flinched at those last two points. The first, because he really didn't want to think of that fact that his folks were, inescapably, getting older, and the second because… because he had seen that look on Pyrrha's face. Alcohol had dulled her well-practiced polite neutrality, and so he could see through the mask and see what she was really feeling. He _wanted_ to tell her all about his life, about his home, his passions… and he realized that Pyrrha, his most ardent supporter at Beacon, had realized… that Beryl was right.

Beryl didn't seem particularly smug at his realization, though. "Just… consider it, okay? You have a family back home, and we need you, Jaune."

He nodded. "I… hear you, Beryl, I'm not… I'm not just being petulant. Becoming a Huntsman is important to me, and," he felt his cheeks grow warm as he surely began to blush, "there's some things here I can't… just leave behind, okay?"

Beryl looked at him, the way she always did when she had seen through all the angles and knew the ideal point to strike, the look that seemed to chop him apart into a hundred thin slices for analysis. But instead of some crushing insight or trenchant bon mot, instead she just gave him a wistful smile. "I think I saw what you were talking about. But… Let's talk tomorrow, Jaune. I think one of those… things you can't leave behind might have something to say to you about that."

He was going to ask her to clarify, but the door behind him flung open, and a panicked Nora whirled him around and clasped him by the shoulders. "Jaune!" she cried, her voice slurring more than he remembered when he was walking her back, "Oh thank the Brothers! I couldn't find you in the room and I thought we left you at the bar!"

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, but by the time he turned back, Beryl was gone.


	3. A Good Vintage

Weiss had coaxed herself back to the chessboard. She wasn't playing Yang, of course, she wouldn't stick her hand back in that toaster before she knew she could win, but she knew the only way she could beat her was if she was willing to do what she had to do for any other challenge in her life. Namely, hard work and practice. And playing chess against Pyrrha was a good way to challenge herself.

"Check."

Or, at least, she ought to have been a challenge. Pyrrha was distracted, making her strategies anemic and short sighted, and Weiss caught her eyes constantly wandering away from the board, missing her turn, and just staring out the window. It was possible she had a hangover, indeed, extremely probable that she had a hangover, considering that all the rest of them did (except for Ruby, who didn't understand that "high, squeaky voices" aren't conducive to a splitting headache!). But, really, she just seemed… distracted.

"Check," she said, a little louder the second time, catching Pyrrha's attention.

"Oh!" she realized what was going on, "I'm so sorry, I'm just..."

"A little distracted?" she asked, airily. Pyrrha blushed and mumbled something noncommittal, blaming her distraction on the wine from last night. And while Weiss had originally suspected that to be the cause, hearing it in Pyrrha's uncertain voice made it pretty clear that it was not the case. Pyrrha's hand shot out, moving her king to a new position… that was still in check. "Pyrrha… my bishop's right there," she pointed. Pyrrha reeled a little, and Weiss sighed. "Listen, I don't think chess is what's important right now, not for either of us."

Pyrrha sighed. It troubled Weiss to see Pyrrha like this—she knew what it was like to have to keep your emotions bottled up under your hat, but Pyrrha was the best at it of all of them.

Which, considering all the screwed-up lives and trauma that JNPR and RWBY had between them, was fairly impressive. And concerning. And, well, if there was one thing Team RWBY had taught Weiss, it was that, when someone was bottling up like that, that was when they needed their friends to be there for them. Like Ruby was there for her.

And in this situation, Ruby would… Hmmm, Weiss realized she wasn't sure what Ruby would do to help her feel better about opening up. But, even if she didn't know what to do, she had to say _something. _Pyrrha was certainly not in a state to take the initiative. "Alright, I have to assume this is about you and Jaune."

"What tipped you off?" she snorted.

"Sarcasm, okay… yeah, you're taking this pretty rough." Pyrrha cringed, apologetically, but Weiss raised her hand to stop the apology. "But I don't get why you're so worried about Jaune?"

"He's..." and Weiss could see the tears forming in her eyes, enough to move even her heart to sympathy, "he's leaving, Weiss. He's going to leave us."

"So tell him not to."

Pyrrha stared at her in incomprehension. "I… can't."

"Even I know he means a lot to you," not that she was _thrilled _about it, but clearly, he made her happy, "so just tell him he can't leave." Seemed simple enough to her; Beryl certainly seemed like a willful woman, but they were Huntresses, even in training, and Weiss knew that Pyrrha was a force to be reckoned with.

"B-but he… you saw him last night, he's I mean, it's his family..."

Now it was Weiss's turn to stare at Pyrrha. "Are you kidding?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

Weiss looked at Pyrrha in total incomprehension. "My family's name is on the chess set we're using right now. Do you think I don't know a thing or two about this?" Pyrrha glanced down. "On the bottom," she corrected, "so you can't see it now, but yeah, there's an SDC snowflake on more things here than you might think. And I see _all _of them, and they're always a reminder that, as much as I'm Weiss, I don't stop being a Schnee."

Pyrrha scowled. "Well, that's good for you, but he's not-"

"Pyrrha," she tried not to roll her eyes, "I _know_ what it's like to have family obligations hanging over you. Do you think I'm never unsure if I'd be better off in Atlas, learning how to run the company?" Pyrrha seemed chastened by her response, so Weiss got to her point. "I'm here because I want to be. Same with Jaune. It's… weird to admit this, but I'm not that different from him. And," she shot Pyrrha a stern look, "you will _not _be telling him I said that. But I've learned things here, from Ruby and my team and all of you, things I couldn't have learned if I stayed in Atlas. And even if I go back to uphold my family name, to reform the SDC, I'll still be better for being here. Even _I _have to admit that Jaune's grown here. He's not who he was when he came, and so I don't think he should leave. And neither do you."

"W-what should I do?" she asked, daring to hope.

Weiss smiled. It was hard to imagine that, months ago, the thought of being Pyrrha's trusted confidant would have been a prized trophy, but now, she knew how much more dear she was as a friend. "Just tell him. Tell him how much he's achieved here and how much he's grown. Tell him what he means to the team and... how much he means to you. And tell him..." she blushed a little, "well, you know..."

And Pyrrha nodded and, judging from the blush, seemed to get her meaning.

"Well?" she asked, to Pyrrha's confusion, "Well, what are you waiting for? Go _tell _him!"

* * *

With Weiss's words echoing in her ears, Pyrrha had torn off to find her partner. She couldn't let him leave, couldn't stand idly by and let him squander- no, that wasn't it. She was here for herself as much as she was here for him. They both had a reason to want Jaune to stay and she couldn't lose her opportunity. Something had to be done.

She saw Jaune and Beryl on campus, on the very same bench where she'd confronted her two days ago. Well. She'd been told then that she would see where Jaune's passions really lied, and whatever she'd seen last night, it was only because_ she hadn't made her move yet._

Jaune turned to greet her, but Pyrrha didn't have time for that. "Jaune, please," she begged, "listen to me. You _can't _drop out of Beacon, because- because-"

She knew what had to be said, she knew the words that _had _to be said to get him to stay, and yet, just like every night they spent training, like on the night of the dance, she found herself facing the man she loved, feeling that love _burning _in her heart, and yet- she couldn't say it. She merely stared helplessly at Jaune, realizing how empty her words felt. _Just say it! _She cried, inwardly, _Just say it! Say "Because I- Because I lo- I lov-"_

But Jaune didn't notice her distress, just looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "Pyrrha… I'm not dropping out of Beacon?"

Staring at him in abject amazement, she almost couldn't process what that meant. It was… it was good, right? It was, wasn't it? It was exactly what she wanted, everything she'd hoped for! She felt a brimming joy swell in her heart as she realized _he wasn't leaving her!_

"Jaune and I had a talk," Beryl added, "and he made me understand that… while I don't necessarily agree with him, I cannot change his mind," she gave her a faint smile, "I guess you got through to him, after all."

What?

She… she hadn't said anything, though! She'd only barely seen Jaune this morning, unable to meet his eye, unable to handle that she'd lost him. And yet, looking to Jaune right now, who blushed and glanced away… had she done something? Was there something that had happened last night that she wasn't remembering or some small... _something_ that had happened this morning, beneath her notice? She didn't dare hope, but it was hard to keep the swelling optimism that, well, maybe there was something between them. Maybe there was reason to hope.

"I, um," Jaune said with a bashful smile, "I just had to tell Beryl that, I mean, you've all invested so much time into making me a halfway-decent fighter that I, um, I can't just leave, you know?" He gave her a "I still gotta prove to you all that I wasn't a waste of time."

It wasn't the explanation she was hoping for, but it was so undeniably Jaune-ish that Pyrrha gladly took it. He would prove himself to them, she knew it for a fact. The potential she had seen in the Emerald Forest was already taking root, and, more than anything, his heart was where his real strength was. And she had seen that firsthand.

Beryl got up from the bench. "Well, if everything's been settled, I really do need to get going so I have time to catch my flight back home." She, graciously, extended her hand to Pyrrha, who took it warmly. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Invincible Girl, and believe me," she turned back to Jaune, "Saphron is going to _flip _when she learns _she's_ your partner."

"What? Why?" Jaune asked, cluelessly, but Pyrrha could already hazard a guess.

"Saphron's in Argus, Jaune, she's like an _idol _there," Pyrrha, no fan of her fame, blushed a little to hear that, but was secretly happy to know that at least _one _of Jaune's sisters would be thrilled to know they were partners, "and you'd know that if you kept in touch with us better. Come on, now, mom's been dying for you to call."

Pyrrha gave Jaune a stern look, which got Jaune to rub his neck nervously and... won some approval with Beryl. "Keep an eye on him," she asked, "don't let him forget where he came from, but… and I'm asking as his sister, help my brother become the best damn Huntsman our family's ever had."

She nodded gravely. "I promise."

And Beryl gave her a hug. "Walk with us to the docks?" she asked, and Pyrrha was happy to comply. They walked together, Beryl teasing Jaune, Pyrrha defending her partner, and Jaune bemoaning that this was what his sisters were always like back home. It was… nice. It felt like she had a special place in his life, that she was the one who could see him like this, with his family. As Beryl got onto the Bullhead back to Vale, she gave Pyrrha a mysterious look—at once hard to read, and yet, at the same time, it felt like Pyrrha grasped _exactly_ what she meant.

* * *

After seeing Beryl off to the Bullhead docks, Jaune returned to the JNPR dorm with his partner. It was a small room, a little too cramped for four, especially when one of those four was Nora Valkyrie, but they'd made a space that worked for all of them. He could see Nora's headphones lying on her desk, Ren's tea set in the corner, the little plant Pyrrha was so desperately trying to keep alive before they let her know it was plastic...

_All places are good, but home is best._

And, well, he had a hard time thinking of any place better than wherever he was with JNPR.

He dropped down on his bed. It'd been a loooong weekend, and he knew that, tired or not, he had classes tomorrow. But at the same time, glancing over towards Pyrrha, the four-time champion of the Mistralian Regional tournaments who had raced across campus to _insist _that he not leave… well, it really made him feel like he could do this. Just knowing that she felt something as small as "not wanting him to leave," from someone like her? It meant a lot. Seeing her this morning made him realize that he _couldn't _leave, not just for what he felt for her, but because how much he seemed to matter to her. Even if it wasn't mutual, she still cared for him. And he could never give that up.

But then his scroll buzzed on his bedside table, and he snatched it up to see what the message was.

"Who's it from, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, "Because if it's Yang, now that she knows you're in line to inherit a winery, she's probably going to try and worm her way into the family."

He had a laugh at that as he glanced down at his scroll. But it wasn't Yang, or anyone he was particularly excited to hear from. "...Beryl," he answered, uncertain on what to do.

"Open it," she suggested, "no use letting it loom over your day."

He sighed. She was certainly right about that. Though Beryl had conceded graciously, she was not someone who was used to losing, not without getting in the last word. But whatever final note she had for him, he might as well face it now. He opened the text: a few short lines telling him to make the most of his time at Beacon and to become the best Huntsman he could be, and then… and then he reached the final line, the line that seemed to _pulse_ on his screen.

"And ask Pyrrha out: you're obviously in love with her."

His jaw dropped. Had she- how had she- he'd only _just _realized it himself, and Beryl was- did... how did she know?

"What's it say, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked. "It wasn't- _what did she say?"_

But Jaune just stammered, still reeling from Beryl's words. What- what could he say? She knew it was _something_ and he couldn't just pretend it wasn't important, considering the fact that he was silently staring at his phone screen! If he was a better liar, he could have faked something, and if he was more disciplined, he could have played it cool when he saw the message, but he was neither, and so he was practically radiating, "THERE IS SOMETHING IMPORTANT ON MY PHONE."

Struggling for words, he was caught completely off guard as her hand shot forward and snatched the scroll from his hands. He was briefly too impressed by the speed of her strike than to realize the violation of personal- SHE WOULD SEE THE MESSAGE!

His own hand shot out to grab the scroll, but it was too late. Pyrrha was looking at him, an almost disbelieving look on her face, her mouth slightly opened as if to speak, but with no words to be found.

"I- it's just, um, my sister has a-"

"Jaune," she cut his babbling off, "Is this… true?"

He blushed, wishing to whatever gods might be listening that he could just phase through the floor and not have to admit to his partner, his eminently perfect and giving partner, who was personally training him to be a competent Huntsman, who was his closest confidant and friend at Beacon, that he… that he had a crush on her. He bowed his head, hoping that there was some order of words or ways of saying things that could save their friendship. But nothing came other than a "...yeah."

Wordlessly, she rose from her seat. Jaune didn't know what to say, how to apologize. Her face was totally blank as she walked over placed both hands on his shoulders, and looked him square in the eyes. Her beautiful, emerald eyes, he could remember the first time he glanced over to ask if he could borrow a pencil and realized that she had beautiful eyes and how that made him realize she had a beautiful _everything, _her smile, her laugh, her kindness, her _everything. _She was the most beautiful woman in the world, and before he could say a word, he'd fallen head over heels for her.

But there were no smiles or laughter here. "All this time…" she said, looming over him, "and you mean to tell me… it was _mutual?"_

He struggled to come up with a- wait, mutual? Mutual? What did- was it-

And then she kissed him.

Her lips crashed into his, at once a forceful collision and a graceful dive, as skillful as any other move from Pyrrha Nikos. But he wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't thinking about how beautiful she was as she swooped down, how soft her lips were against his, or how passionate the kiss was. He wasn't thinking anything for a while, until, suddenly, a new idea came into his mind.

_I want to kiss her back._

And he did. And he could feel the delight radiate off of his partner as she pushed him to his bed. Entwining his arms around her slender waist, he pulled her close and kissed her like he'd been dreaming of since he realized there was nothing in this world he wanted more than her. The girl he thought he could never have, would never be worthy of. Seeing her this morning… that sorrowful, dolorous look that he knew was because she had come to realize that Beryl was _right, _had been a shard of ice in his heart. But it had made him realize how badly she didn't _want _him to leave, and that made him realize that he didn't want to leave either—that he didn't want to leave her.

And now he had her, and she had him, the two of them discovering that their hopeless, one-sided crush was actually the root of a deep and dear love between the both of them.

Pyrrha broke away from the kiss for air. "Say my name," she gasped.

"Pyrrha?" he cocked an eye.

"No, no," she shook her head, "Say my name… with your accent."

He glanced at her, a little embarrassed. "Pyrrha Nikos," he said, letting some of his Valean accent slip through.

"Brothers," her eyelashes fluttered, "you have a sexy accent..."

Shocked, he was barely able to stammer out, "Wait, what?"

"It is," she said with a teasing smile.

"It's like… really provincial, Pyr, not at all like-"

"I'm Mistralian," she replied, "I have _no _idea what it's supposed to sound like, I just know..." she grinned, "it makes me want to kiss you more."

He… was happy to comply with that. More than happy. They kissed again. Less desperately passionate, but more close, more content. Now they were kissing each other because that's what they did, that's what they had. It was a laughing kiss, a relieved kiss, a kiss that could go on for all time.

But when it broke, he heard her lovely, lovely voice that made it all worthwhile. "It's wonderful," she murmured, "so wonderful. And I'd waited _so _long."

"Sorry about that," he said with a bashful chuckle, "but… you're right. It's wonderful to finally kiss you."

She looked at him with lidded eyes. "Describe it to me, Jaune," she asked in a husky voice.

"You want my... tasting notes on your kisses?"

"If you describe me as 'full-bodied,'" she teased, "you're going to regret it."

"Ha, I- I wouldn't!" he promised, smiling, "But, you know… there are hints of vanilla," he kissed her, "and the attack is sharp, but," and he kissed her again, "there's a richness across the whole palate, and," he kissed her again, "the sort of finish that makes me want to sample your kisses again."

And that's exactly what he did. 

**Special thanks to Renarde for helping me come up with and develop the idea, and thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.  
**


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